It's a Kind of Magic
by Xarra
Summary: Harry has defeated Voldemort, and now is looking forward to a life of being just Harry. But things can never be that simple, and when a witch called Cassandra tracks him down, Harry discovers that dead doesn't always mean dead...
1. Prologue

It's a Kind of Magic

A/N: This is a Harry Potter/Highlander crossover. A few facts before I start: Harry is NOT adopted. :) That does mean I'll be using my own pet theory about Immortality. Feel free to debate it, but there it is. This blatantly ignores the DH epilogue, but should be canon-compliant up to that. You don't need to know much about Highlander, but it helps. :)

Chapter 1

Surreal. That was the word he'd been searching for for the last half hour as he watched the crowds rush back and forwards along the busy London streets. This was definitely one of the more surreal situations he'd been in in the last few years. For one, no one was taking his photograph, asking for his autograph or wanting him to kiss their babies. For another, no evil megalomaniacs were trying to kill him. It felt surreal.

Anyone watching Herman's Café and Bar on the small side street wouldn't see anything strange about the lanky teenager sitting on a rickety metal chair at an equally unstable metal table on the pavement. Black hair, which looked like it had fought the daily battle with a comb and won, flopped over thoughtful green eyes that were currently staring into a large cup of coffee. Faded jeans and a loose white shirt over a red t-shirt didn't stand out either, the only slight oddity a thin piece of wood sticking jauntily out of the back pocket of the trousers.

If anyone had being paying really close attention, they may have noticed the spoon in the coffee occasionally stirring itself, or the jumble of coins in the boy's wallet when he paid that weren't from any recognisable country in the world, but apart from that, the young man named Harry Potter had decided that he was going to have a nice, normal, sane and safe afternoon in London. It was just feeling slightly strange to be normal.

Not, he supposed, that being a wizard was particularly normal, but it was quite a few rungs of the ladder down from being The Boy Who Vanquished He Who Must Not Be Named - killed had been deemed too much of a vulgar word - Order of Merlin First Class - yet to be awarded - and face of no less than three chocolate frog cards.

Pulling his wand out of his pocket, and glancing around, he tapped the cup gently, whispering a warming charm before taking a glance at his watch. Surely it didn't take that long to buy shoes? Fair enough they were for Hermione and Ron's engagement party, and Hermione was female and therefore prone to the weakness that seemed to strike women in the presence of clothing, but surely it didn't take long enough to be on his second warming charm?

Taking a sip from the reheated liquid, he continued to watch the crowds. So many people, the sheer numbers made his head spin if he tried to think about how many people had crossed his line of vision in the past hour, and all so unaware of how close they'd come to dying at Voldemort's hands only a few months ago.

Shaking his head to try to dispell the thoughts, he took another sip, the coffee barely warming up his fingers. Even the weather was being its usual abnormal self - he should not be freezing in September. In Hogwarts maybe, it'd been so cold over the last month in the castle that people had taken to finding the cold spots that the ghosts generated as they were warmer than the ambient temperature. But he'd hoped that this far south the weather would have at least remembered it was the tail end of summer and behaved accordingly. Just his luck that the cold had flown south for the winter.

So, here he was, in muggle London, drinking a normal cup of coffee in a normal café, surrounded by people who hadn't the slightest idea who he was, waiting for one his best friends to return with shoes. Surreal. But nice. After the last few months of chaos, peaceful surreality was good.

He'd stayed in the wizarding world for months, helping with the clear up. The funerals had taken place soon after the battle, and the body of Tom Riddle had been disposed of - he didn't ask how. He didn't want to know. But once the dead had been dealt with, the living had demanded his attention with a vengeance, everything from the Daily Prophet wanting interviews to the Wizengamot demanding his opinion on the new Minister of Magic.

At times he forgot he was only seventeen. The rest of the world definitely had.

Thankfully the frenzied rush of things that involved The Boy Who Lived had now faded to only one or two owls a week, excluding the fanmail. He'd set up a redirect for that to one of the Burrow's spare rooms that Molly had kindly expanded to hold the piles of letters. He kept intending to sit down and actually reply to them, but something always came up. Maybe Professor Lockhart had been onto something using it as a detention after all.

So, what did he do now? The Boy Who Lived had survived again, Voldemort was vanquished, and now there was just Harry. No great destiny, no strange prophesies, unless someone had spoken one that he'd managed to miss somehow, and his whole life stretching out before him. He could be an auror, the Ministry had made it very clear that Harry Potter was welcome to join the training program. He could help rebuild Hogwarts, Professor, no, Headmistress McGonagall had also made it clear that he could be a great help in restoring the wizarding world's opinion of the school.

Staring into the dark liquid he dismissed both of those ideas before they fully formed. Both of those jobs were for Harry Potter, not for just Harry, a teenage wizard who hadn't even taken his N.E.W.T.S, although McGonagall had also mentioned something about either being able to go back to school to take them, or the Ministry had hinted that he could be granted an honorary pass. Didn't he deserve to be normal finally? Like the rest of the world?

He was just about to cast a third rewarming charm, still thinking, when the headache struck.

His first panicked thought was that Voldemort had somehow returned, but it wasn't that kind of headache, not the kind that felt as if his entire mind was screaming at the intrusion. It was more a buzz, as if a thousand bees had been let loose in his head and were all clamouring to be released from the fleshy prison. It felt like someone had taken a dentist's drill and was boring into his head, it felt like...

And it stopped, abruptly, leaving him to pick himself up from the table, cursing at the rivulets of coffee spilling over the table.

"Are you OK?"A waitress was leaning over him, already beginning to mop up the remains of his drink in a purely habitual manner, "Do you need me to call an ambulance?"

Blinking away the memory of the pain, he managed a quick smile at the girl, "No. No, I'm fine. Sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"You looked like you were having a fit. Are you sure? You didn't get burnt, did you?"She was regarding him with concern, pausing in her mopping to check his hands where they rested on the table. "Ah, good thing it's cold today - surprised your drink stayed warm this long, you've been out here ages."

With a grimace he turned into a smile, he shook his head, repocketing his wand before she could tidy it up as well. "No, just a headache. I'll get myself checked out by a Heal.. doctor. I promise."Before she could comment on his slip, he stood up. "Maybe I'll come and wait inside, if that's OK?"

"Sure. Want me to make you another drink?"

"Please."Flashing another bright smile, the waitress finally seemed to be reassured, and he followed her into the shadows of the shop.

The woman standing at the entrance to the sidestreet, a still figure against the rushing crowds, frowned for a long moment before blending back into the flow.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**A/N: Well, here we go. I had a brainwave as to how to link both worlds together better, so the plot is firmer now. :) Please review - I thrive on the things... :) I will try and make all the chapters a minimum of 4k words. :) Also, please don't be put off by the Hermione/Ron stuff if you're not keen on the pairing - it's not a main focus. :P Duncan and Methos will turn up eventually. :)**

Wizards weren't, by nature, religious. Harry supposed that he was technically Christian - after all, he'd had a godfather, which implied he'd been christened at some point, although he had no idea if a wizarding christening was any different to a Muggle one. Given he couldn't see Snape and Malfoy as Christian, thou-shalt-not-kill and all that, he suspected there were distinct changes.

There were Muggle-borns who continued to practise their religion after entering the magical world, Seamus for example was Catholic, but often the lack of churches, synagogues and so on that catered to magical followers, with the added difficulty that magical society just didn't have the same ideas as Muggles, meant that, at least in Britain, religion soon lapsed from all but the most devout witches and wizards. Either that or they were home-schooled by a wizarding tutor, although those students very rarely got very high grades without the support and teaching of a school like Hogwarts.

Personally he'd not been in a church for years, the Dursleys hadn't exactly been the type to go to church every Sunday. Well, apart from a phase Aunt Petunia had gone through when he was seven when she'd decided that appearing pious would do wonders for her image. That had stopped after a month when the vicar mentioned he'd received complaints that 'Little Duddy-dums' was making far too much noise during the service and could she please place him in the creche. Of course as 'Ickle Dudley' had only wanted to join in with the hymns and the creche wasn't supervised well enough for her precious, according to Aunt Petunia at least, that was the end of that.

That church had been very modern, all pale wood and starkness, with plain benches and minimalist symbols on the walls, with all the atmosphere of a village hall. The one he was currently in on the other hand was much more to his tastes and he'd even heard a few of the wizards that had been invited to the ceremony comment on the feeling that some presence was present in the building.

The vaulted beamed wood ceilings arched over stone walls and ceiling, pock-marked by time and smoothed by ages. Figures of gargoyles and angels were skillfully hand-carved carefully into the pillars supporting the roof, each one unique, each one watching the proceedings below them with a fixed glare. It was kind of strange having them them all staring unmovingly.

Then there were the beautifully carved wooden pews currently decorated by bouquets of elegant blue roses , especially charmed for the day, entwined with pale orange ribbons that cascaded down the gleaming dark wood. Swathes of pale blue material looped along the sides of the aisle linked them all together while more of the flowers and ribbons decorated the altar and bronze standing candelabras containing flickering orange candles.

The whole effect of the medieval building with the celebratory flowers was perfect for the couple that were now facing each other at the altar, the words of the Muggle wedding ceremony flowing over him where he stood next to Ron as his best man.

"Do you have the rings?"

The vicar's question jolted him out of his musing and he dug into his suit jacket to pull out the alchemical gold rings, handing them to the priest carefully, terrified of dropping them. He'd already performed the role perfectly when Hermione and Ron had exchanged the same rings once in a wizarding ceremony at The Burrow, but they'd decided to have an additional ceremony as well to allow her large extended Muggle family to attend their nuptials. Which gave him a second opportunity to mess up. As long as the headache he'd had while he was helping setting up the ceremony didn't come back, he was pretty sure he'd be fine though.

Luckily the older man's hands accepted the rings without problems and continued the ceremony without any issue. He couldn't help but smile at the sheer love in both his best friends' voices as they pledged themselves to each other for a second time in as many days.

"You may now kiss the bride."

He didn't even need to look to know that the wolf whistle was from George.

As the bridal party turned towards the congregation, Ginny taking up her place beside him, he scanned the assembled mix of people that were clapping, cheering and crying in celebration. He recognised all the witches and wizards, only Ron's immediate family and a few of their closest friends from the magical world had been invited to the church ceremony.

On Hermione's side of the aisle however, while many of the guests looked similar to his friend, he only recognised her parents, who'd been brought back to Britain with the help of McGonnagal to find their only daughter engaged to be married with a wedding being planned for a month's time. Needless to say, they hadn't been entirely impressed, but after meeting Molly Weasley, Maria Granger had found herself immersed in a whirlwind of wedding planning while her husband William had been sought out by Arthur to explain Muggle wedding conventions. Before they knew it they had been taken in and made a part of the extended Weasley clan, and with Ron making a real effort to get to know his fianceé's parents, they'd finally accepted their daughter's choice.

Hermione's mention of having two weddings had somewhat worried the two dentists, no matter how logical the idea, however once Arthur had explained that there was really very little expense for a magical wedding - everything except the food could be transfigured after all - they had relaxed and enjoyed the novelty of planning a ceremony where almost anything was possible.

But he didn't recognise the woman seated right at the back of the church, in the corner by the door. He was pretty certain that he hadn't seen her come in, and the wards they'd put up prevented anyone without a order of service from entering. She was a brunette, but her hair was far too ordered and neat to be compared with his friend's, and her almost feline bone structure was definitely not similar to any of the Grangers'. He knew she'd caught him staring when her eyebrows rose gracefully, arching into her hair, and he looked away quickly, returning his attention to the new Mr and Mrs Weasley as they practically danced down the aisle.

He half expected the woman to have disappeared when he reached the door and took up his position, huddling slightly against the wall from the winter coldness to help direct the guests to the reception, but when he turned, she was still sitting in the pew, watching him with eyes that he could now see were a vivid green although not quite the emerald of his own.

"You coming in the lima-scene?" Ginny's voice distracted him and he turned to smile at his girlfriend. How it was so hard to get Muggle words correct, he'd never know - she'd heard him use the correct pronunciation at least ten times in the last week alone.

He'd never even dreamt of travelling in such a luxurious car, it had been a rare treat to travel in the Dursley's, and his experience with wizarding cars had varied - flying headlong into the Willow had been memorable, but terrifying. For a moment he was sorely tempted to take the slender proffered hand and enjoy a pleasant journey to the reception, except that out of the corner of his eye he could still see the strange woman watching him, her eyes fixed on him.

Giving Ginny a quick one-armed hug as he accepted a few words on how lovely the ceremony was from a departing guest, he shook his head. "I've got to make sure everyone know where they're app.. going to. Hermione'd never forgive me if someone ended up in the wrong place and missed the dancing."

The excuse sounded weak even to his ears, but the redhead just smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"I'll see you there then. Remember that she won't forgive you if you're not there to give your speech either." A mischievous grin brightened up her face, "Ron, however, would probably buy you a new broom if you missed it."

"Lucky I don't need a new broom then, isn't it?" he replied, kissing her back. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting her skip down the steps to where the uniformed driver held the door open for her to slip into the gleaming motor.

Turning his attention back to the few remaining guests, he met the amused eyes of the Headmistress as he accepted her apology on his friends behalf that she would be unable to attend the reception. Something had apparently happened at Hogwarts and she needed to return immediately, nothing that he needed concern himself with, of course.

"You and Miss Weasley are still, what do they call it nowadays, dating?" The gleam in her eyes - the McGonnagal equivalent of a twinkle - told him that she knew full well that courting had gone out of fashion for all but the pureblood houses, and with the fall of Voldemort those traditions had receded even further.

"Yep. With her still being at Hogwarts, it's tricky, but we're managing," he smiled, "I hope the feathers aren't cluttering up the Great Hall too much?"

She shook her head, adjusting the black hat sitting neatly on her grey hair. As a concession to the fact that it was a Muggle ceremony, the hat was an elegant wide brimmed affair with what he suspected were owl tail feathers trimming the crown. "No, of course not. Although wouldn't it be easier if you came back to take your N.E.? You'd be in the same year now, of course."

He wasn't surprised. She'd only hinted every time he'd seen her and it appeared that it was now progressing to outright suggesting. He wouldn't be surprised if it became an outright demand eventually but he'd already decided that he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If he wanted to do his final exams then he'd go to the Ministry and sit them, but the school that had once been a refuge and a home was now too full of bad memories for him to be comfortable walking the halls again. Down one corridor, a body too small to be anyone but a student, down another the sight of a Death Eater casting curse after curse after a fleeing figure. Walls cracked and broken, a club shattering the ancient stone. The howl of a werewolf arching above the sound of battle. No, he couldn't face returning there.

Ginny claimed that he was older than his years and that she felt like that sometimes and he shouldn't let that get in the way of completing his education, but then she'd never had the fate of an entire world on her shoulders - it was the one major thing they argued about.

Blinking out of his thoughts, he shrugged, "I've already told you, Headmistress. It's not something I'm considering."

"Well, if you change your mind Harry, please just send me an owl."

Merlin, he hated when his old Head of House looked disappointed in him. From experience it was because he'd done something wrong. Ignoring the nagging feeling that he was about to have house points removed, he nodded politely, before adding a few words about how he hoped the problem at the school wasn't serious. Luckily that seemed to remind her that she needed to be elsewhere and it wasn't long until he was alone in the entrance way.

Then she stood.

She moved like a ghost. No, a ghost of a cat. Smooth and silent with an edge of danger that had all his nerves on edge. Out of the corner of his eye, he was reassured to see the priest still pottering around and a door disgorging several ladies who began to dismantle the flowers and decorations. At least it was unlikely that she would hex him in the presence of witnesses.

When she reached him, he noticed that she was wearing Muggle clothing, a loose white open-necked blouse framing an intricate gold necklace, with a modest brown pencil skirt, matching earrings and a slightly incongruous long brown wool coat that swept the hem of the skirt. So, probably not a witch then - the outfit was far too sensible and boring.

Relaxing slightly, he held his hand out to meet hers in a firm grasp. "Thank you for coming, Miss?"

"Cassandra." The harsh but lilting voice held an accent that he couldn't place, the green eyes flickering to his forehead and back in an all too familiar manner. "My name's Cassandra. And you would be Harry Potter, the savior."

So, she was a witch.

Pushing the question as to how she managed to get through the wards to the side, he forced a rueful smile onto his lips. "It's just Harry. Did you need directions to the reception?"

"No," she frowned slightly, watching him in a way that made him shift uncomfortably under the piercing gaze. "No, I actually wanted to speak to you."

Great, one of his so-called fans had actually managed to crash his best friends' wedding to meet him. At least she wasn't one of the screaming ones that threw themselves at him begging him to marry them. They were just embarrassing.

"Um, well, I'm a bit busy at the moment, I'm kind of expected to give a best man's speech in a few minutes," he replied, glancing at his watch, "So I'm afraid I don't really have time at the moment."

Cassandra just looked amused. "That's not a problem. I'm sure we can arrange to meet at a more convenient time."

"I'm flattered, but I don't..."

"Oh, you misunderstand me. I'm not a fan of yours. I'm grateful for what you've done for our kind, but I have no desire to fawn all over you like a rabid puppy." She shook her head with a smile, "And I don't want or need anything from you. But I do need to talk to you."

There was an intensity in her eyes as she watched him, almost that of a predator watching her prey, which made his war-trained instincts scream. Looking down at his watch again, he feigned surprise at the time, cursing quietly. "Look, I'm sorry, but I've got to go. It was nice meeting you." The last was a clear lie - if he never saw Cassandra again it would be far too soon.

"Of course," she stepped back, letting him move away from the old wooden door and towards the external steps. "I'll see you again, just Harry."

He could feel those piercing eyes following him as he headed to an outside alcove in the church wall and apparated away.

_~mutatio~_

The reception was being held in a country manor function room. A very Muggle and normal room in which he had to give a nice, normal Muggle-friendly Best Man's speech. If he'd thought the speech the day before at The Burrow had been difficult to write, having to carefully edit the details of certain adventures so that Molly, McGonnagal, and the other adults at the ceremony didn't have heart attacks, then this one, where all mention of trolls, thestrals and transfiguration had to be removed was even trickier. Hermione's parents had apparently told all her relations that she was at an exclusive Scottish boarding school called Hogarth's, however that was where the similarities ended.

Luckily, with a bit of brainstorming with Ginny, he'd been able to come up with a few stories that were recognisable, although highly modified - Ron driving a car into a tree, although into the trunk rather than the branches, Hermione's homework planners and constant studying, the Yule ball and the rescue of a horse named Buckbeak. Sadly the whole troll incident, the Ministry of Magic raid and the final battle had to be scrapped - it had been impossible to come up with any ideas that the Muggles would swallow as reasonable for a trio of school children to have been involved with.

He couldn't help grinning when he found his redheaded mate pacing nervously outside as he emerged from the temporary apparition point in a gazebo hidden by trees in the manor's grounds. "Given you've already married her, twice, I'm not entirely sure what you're panicking about."

"Harry!" Ron looked almost desperate, "I've got to meet her family! What if they corner me and want to talk about, about Muggle things? Or if I slip and mention magic?"

"You'll be fine," he replied, hoping that he was keeping the amusement out of his reassuring tone, "I know she's drilled a few conversation topics into your head, and I'm more worried George will slip than you given how much firewhiskey he had yesterday, however there's always _obliviate_ if things go horribly wrong."

The other man groaned, "'Mione'll kill me if I _obliviate_ any of her relatives."

Putting his arm around his friend's waist, he began to steer the groom towards the garden entrance to the function hall. "Not as much as she'll kill you if you don't get in their right now and stop her from being overwhelmed by those same relatives."

"Oh, Merlin..."

A few minutes later he'd seated Ron next to Ginny at the top table, pressing him firmly into the plush chair before taking up his own chair next to Hermione who was looking at her new husband with familiar annoyance. "And where have you been?"

"Leave off him, 'Mione," he defended the terrified looking man with a gentle elbow to the brunette's ribs, "he'll be fine once the food arrives."

Brown eyes slated towards him suspiciously, but the entrance of said food stopped the inevitable quiz and perked up the man in question who dived into the extravagant starter as if he was starving.

All too soon the last swirl of chocolate sauce had been licked off the spoon, the coffee had been served and it was time for his speech.

He managed to rescue his notes from his jacket and tap on his glass for attention before swallowing, licking his lips nervously. Somehow giving pre-prepared speeches was a lot more nerve-wracking than making up ones on the spot in a war zone. "Well, thank you all for coming to the wedding of the new Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley. I've known the pair of them for seven years now, and you wouldn't know from looking at them now but when I first met them on the train to Hogarth's they couldn't stand each other..."

Sinking back down into his chair so that Dr. Granger could give a speech as Father of the Bride, he thought that it had actually gone rather well. He'd avoided any mention of magic, which had caused no few laughs from the witches and wizards present who knew the real stories, he'd managed to make both of his friends blush at least once, and he'd not stumbled too much. Apparently his mouth had picked up some tips on giving speeches without telling his brain.

He was only half listening to the speech which was rambling about how welcoming the Weasleys had been and how different cultures could mesh together - without actually mentioning magic - when a glance out the window made him sit up in alarm.

One moment the sky was a dull grey, familiar for the winter season, and the next the clouds were darkening rapidly to a steel, almost . There was nothing natural about the mass of darkness now swirling above the building like a storm-hit sea, flickers of lightning already darting in the depths.

Damn. They'd warded the function room as well as they could, although they'd been unable to be anywhere near as selective as with the church given the serving staff, but they'd not warded the public grounds beyond a few anti-Muggle charms around the apparition point and _tempestas impedito_ to stop any rain from ruining the day. Whatever this storm was, it wasn't stopped by a simple rain stopping charm.

William's voice trailed off as the room dimmed under the heavy clouds, and it was obvious the dentist had noticed the strange weather as he glanced towards the wizarding guests nervously, although many of them had also turned to look out of the windows.

Then the lightning started, darting down from the swirling darkness to strike into the treeline across from the manicured lawn. Again and again the bolts flew down, unerringly aiming at the same spot in an uneerie silence that spoke louder than anything that this weather was magically created - even he knew that thunder followed lightning.

His instincts had him pulling his wand from his inner pocket in a movement that attracted the attention of half the room before he realised it. The other half of the room definitely noticed him when he darted out of the room and into the garden. He wasn't entirely what he was doing, but he knew that he wasn't going to let anything get in the way of his best friends' wedding.

He breached the treeline just as the lightning stopped, the shouts behind him getting muffled by the trees, casting _lumos_ as he ran to light his way under the heavy foliage. Moments later he found himself in a clearing, the ground singed and blackened and branches cracked and broken with one smouldering slightly from a burn mark. However the worst part was the fresh, dark blood gleaming across the floor and tree trunks. Before he could do more than take in the horrific sight, a slight movement at the corner of his eye had spinning to point his wand towards where a pair of yellow eyes glittered out of the shadows.

"Harry?" Ron's voice came from somewhere out on the perfectly manicured lawn.

"In here," he said, keeping his wand trained on the dark shape that... was gone. Simply gone. He'd blinked and in that split second, barely a moment, whatever it was had disappeared silently amongst fallen branches and dried leaves. Those should have cracked as it passed and yet he'd heard nothing but the clumsy rustles behind him of his friend's passage through the trees.

He was still watching the spot where the creature had been when the redhead pushed his way into the clearing to stand next to him with wand out, the tip also glowing with a pale light as his blue eyes surveyed the mess on the floor, taking in the blood-covered leaves with a grimace.

Swallowing audibly, the redhead looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "What the hell happened?"

He shook his head, finally lowering his wand slowly. "I have no idea."

When they emerged from the trees a few moments later they were met by a frantic Hermione and a more stoic Kingsley, both with wands drawn and ready under a sky that had already returned to a pale dove grey.

"What in Merlin's name were you _thinking _Ron?" Well, at least something was as normal as ever. "George and Arthur are keeping the guests calm - and Molly's having to _oblivate_ half my relatives! You can't keep doing these kind of things Ronald Weasley, you're a married man now and I am not having you running off after Harry every time he decides that it's his job to throw himself at anything remotely dangerous!"

He couldn't help wincing when her anger-lit eyes turned to him. "And you Harry, when will you finally learn that running headlong into things never turns out well? You could have been killed! Did you even _think_ for a moment about what was causing the lightning before charging in to be the hero?"

He was incredibly grateful for the Minister's deep smooth voice interrupting as soon as the brunette paused for breath. "Did you find anything, Harry?"

"A clearing with blood sprayed all over it," he replied bluntly, "I didn't see anyone, but there was some kind of animal there which disappeared pretty much as soon as I got there. It was too dark to see what it was though."

Kingsley nodded, "I'll get an Auror team on it immediately. In the meantime I would suggest that you escort the bride and groom back to their wedding reception where I believe the dancing should be getting started shortly. I would suggest that questions come after the celebration - whatever happened here has stopped and I'll be placing up extra wards as well."

He really wanted to insist that he join whatever investigation was started, by hinting that it might lead into him joining the Auror program it was almost a certainty that he'd be allowed to observe, if not outright assist. He'd not realised just how much he'd missed the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Oh, sure, he'd hated the nightmarish horror of the situations he'd found himself in, hated the death, the pain, hated the war, but beneath it all there'd been a secret guilty and only half-conscious enjoyment of a rush he'd only managed to replicate in Quidditch when he was diving towards the snitch.

But he wanted to be normal. And normal mature wizards didn't get involved in things that caused blood to splatter across the ground, and lightning to strike from nowhere. They also didn't put themselves in potentially dangerous situations because they guiltily missed the deadly excitement from a war. And they definitely prioritised their best friends' wedding above everything else.

With a nod at the Minister, he slipped his arm through Hermione's before wrapping the other around Ron's shoulders and leading them away from the crime scene. "Mr and Mrs. Weasley, I believe it is now time for your second first dance. Shall we?"

"If you're sure..." Hermione had seen far too much in the war for the strange event to phase her, even on her wedding day, although he suspected that she was having to force herself not to think of reasons and theories for the incident.

"I'm sure Mrs. Weasley. Go and enjoy your wedding. I absolutely insist that you save a dance for me."

Ron reached around behind Harry to touch her shoulder gently. "He's right, 'Mione. We shouldn't let this ruin the day and people will be wondering where we are if we don't turn up soon."

"But..."

"No buts. I need to prove to you that yesterday wasn't a coincidence and I really can dance without treading on your toes. Well, too much at least."

"I've brought a few skelegrow potions just in case..."

"Harry! You're meant to have confidence in me, not..."

"Prepare for the inevitable?"

Kingsley watched as the trio headed back to the manor for a long moment before he began to seal off the area and send messages off to the Ministry. He doubted that he'd get to dance at all.


End file.
